In the Presnece of Enemies
by Bloodmark Mentor
Summary: A Marines Corporal is sent out for the first time in one year for a tour of duty on Planet Harvest. Assigned to rifle platoon Bravo One-Actual, he will discover what it takes to lead men into battle, and if necessary, to die to accomplish the mission.


0500 hours

Planet Harvest, South Quadrant

September 5th, 2531

The cargo ship landed and a smooth yet recognizable decent much like that of a falling elevator was the queue for me and the five other Marines to exit the ship. We stepped out on to the supply pad, our luggage in hand, into the minus 20 degree, snow-ridden cesspit that was Harvest. I took a second to look around. The snow was falling hard and the wind was howling in the distance, the grey sky adding to the dismal effect the planet sported. And yet this place is heaven compared to what lies ahead.

A young man in a winter coat and goggles ran up to me and reached for my bag.

"Welcome to Fort Moscow, sir!" he yelled over the engine noise coming from the ascending cargo ship. I chuckled at the name of the fortress. I guess it fitted well with the cold, but also because I was of Russian decent I knew exactly how cold it got in my country.

My name is Stephan Izotov; or just Corporal Izotov. I had been shipped out here from Tantalus for another tour of duty. The last time I saw combat was almost a year ago today, during the battle of Groombridge-1830. Due to the high cost our victory came at, I was laid off for a month-long leave break. After it was over, I worked mostly with logistics and machinery. A few weeks prior to this, ONI decided to ship me out to Harvest, along with three hundred new recruits, to bolster our defenses in the south quadrant.

I took a look around. Men and women were operating machinery, working on or building new vehicles, and inspecting the new equipment that was coming in by the hour. Cargo ships landed every thirty seconds to deliver supplies, that way the base could have continuous output of vehicles and gear. That was when I noticed the barracks to my left, a few yards away, with a UNSC flag waving above. The kid with my bag had been talking to one of his superiors. He turned to face me.

"Follow me, sir!" he called again. "The barracks is this way!" We walked through the snow and the commotion to the small facility. The doors opened and we entered. It's hard to believe at first, but these facilities could hold quite a few troops; and by that I mean about five to ten thousand. A standard UNSC fortress may look small, but that's because the base is dug in deep underground. Most of it is used for storage, but down below we can store the materials needed to build vehicles, ammo, and to process gasoline.

The kid walked me over to a bunk bed and out my bag down.

"Major Lawrence is waiting for you topside, sir," he said.

"Thanks very much, privet," I replied as he nodded and marched back to the elevator. I unpacked my stuff, locked up my foot locker and headed topside. Outside the barracks, a woman conversing with two senior infantrymen was rubbing her forehead with one hand and grasping her hip with the next. I had a hunch that that was the Colonel. I approached her slowly and stood at attention.

"Ma'am," I said, getting her attention. She turned to face me, a stern, irritated expression plaguing her face. She was about five foot nine with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Her skin was slightly wrinkled and she had a scar on the right side of her top lip.

"Yes, solider?" she asked. I was hesitant to reply. This woman was extremely intimidating.

"Corporal Izotov reporting in from Tantalus, Ma'am." She looked at me, from bottom to top, inspecting me.

"Corporal do you know what platoon you belong in?" she asked me, looking down at a clipboard one of her soldiers handed her.

"My superiors told me that I would be assigned to a platoon upon my arrival, ma'am," I replied, hoping she wasn't getting too irritated by me. She picked up a canteen and took a swig. She turned to one of her senior officers and began talking. I stood there and didn't say a word.

She turned back to me, still writing on her clipboard. "You have experience in the field, Corporal?"

"Yes ma'am," I told her, hoping she would at least believe me. "The battle of Groombridge, ma'am." Her eyes looked up to me. She cocked an eyebrow.

"I see," she said, still not breaking her stern expression. "Well then, Corporal, consider yourself hired."

"Thank you very much, ma'am," I told her. She took another swig from her canteen and closed it up. After writing down one more thing on the clipboard she tore the paper off and handed it to her Staff Sergeant, who took it and headed for the vehicle depot.

"You're being assigned to rifle platoon number fifteen 'Bravo-One Actual'; their all resting in the barracks at the moment; why don't you go get yourself introduced?"

"Yes ma'am!" I replied, turning around and walking to back to the small building.

The doors opened and I entered once more. I looked around, very curious as to where I was supposed to go. The best way to find out, I supposed, was to ask.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice echoing through the room. All the Marines looked at me. "Does anyone know where I can find platoon fifteen?" After a slight pause, someone finally answered; a black Marine.

"Man oh man, boys," he said getting up cracking his knuckles and grinning. "Fresh fucking meat!" He and the other Marines came after me. One of them went to grab me; I twisted his arm, lifted upwards, spun him around and kicked him to the ground. Another one tried to get me in a choke hold, to which I slid from underneath him and elbowed his stomach, followed by another one to his cheek. I felt a crack in my leg, only for it to be followed by me falling on my back. I jumped up to meet the Marine who was about to grab me. I took him by the arm and flipped him over my shoulder onto one of the beds, which fell in upon impact. Again before I was able to react accordingly, I felt a heavy blow to my jaw bone; it was the black Marine. Before he could land his second hit, I grabbed his arm, lifted it upwards around to the back of his head, and flipped him to the ground.

Just as round two was about to begin, the other Marines stopped in their tracks.

"How the hell did you do that?" one of them asked, winded.

"Sixteen years of Sambo and Systema training," I replied. "I'd back off if I were you." Eventually these Marines were gonna pin me to the ground. I had to do something. Just then, a tall man entered the room calmly, and stood looking around. The men all stood at attention; all except me.

"Ladies, pack your shit; we're heading out in five minutes so I'll see all of you at the launch pad then." He turned around, hands behind his back, when he stopped and turned around to face me. "Oh yes; give our new Corporal a warm welcome. He'll be joining us today."

The Marines flooded to the door and entered one of the many elevators.

Two stories down, I entered the armory; what a sight that was. It had to be the size of a football field. Hundreds of Marines were gearing up; test firing weapons and conversing with their buddies. I found the locker with my name; number E276 and opened it up. Inside was a suit of standard issue UNSC armor. It took me a minute or so to negotiate the armor, as it was bulky looking on the outside, but actually very comfortable and wieldy once I got the whole thing on. I had everything on now, and I looked to a receipt I received before I shipped out. I was to go and pick up my weaponry. It said I had to go to isle number eight, which was six rows to my left. The isle was lined with Assault Rifles, Sub Machine Guns, Rockets and Shotguns, among other weapons. My receipt said I had been issued an MA5K Carbine. I walked over, took one from the rack, and grabbed ten magazines, four grenades, an M6G pistol with six magazines, and a combat dagger.

My orders were to head topside immediately after gearing up. Once again, I got on the elevator, this time with fellow Marines by my side. One of them, specifically, the one to my right, turned his head to me.

"You new here?" he asked me, sort of trembling as he did.

"Yeah," I replied. "I just got transferred from Tantalus a half hour ago."

"Hot damn," he said, this time a little friendlier. "And they have you out on active duty already? Have you even met your squad yet?"

"Nope; all I know is that my platoon is Bravo-One Actual." He turned to me again with surprise ridden all over.

"That's my unit!" he said to me.

"Well, my friend," I said to him as I held out my hand. "I guess we're gonna be seeing each other a lot from here on in; Stephan Izotov at your service."

"Steven Miller," he replied, shaking my hand and smiling. "Allow me to join you in combat for a while." The elevator came to a stop and we stepped out to the snow. Around us, Marines were getting ready to move out. Warthogs, Scorpions, and Pelicans were being tuned up for the mission ahead. We noticed three men waiting around one of the tanks. One of them happened to be the tall man from before. We walked over to them and told them we were assigned to Platoon fifteen.

"Welcome to the squad boys," the tall man said, grinning and flipping his BR55 over his shoulder. "Allow me to introduce everyone. I'm Captain Hartmann, squad leader. The man with the shotgun to my left is Privet Oppam; and this fine gentleman with the M247 is Lieutenant DuPont."

"Nice to meet all of you," I replied. "Corporal Izotov, at your service, sir." The Captain looked over to Steven.

"And you?" he asked.

"Privet Steven Miller, sir," he said while saluting the man.

"Hey, hey!" DuPont yelled at Miller. "Put that fucking hand down; there's Jackals all over this place and they'd just _love_ to grease an officer."

"Y-yes sir," he replied, shaken up. "It won't happen again, sir!" DuPont backed off, staring Miller directly in the eyes. Miller held his ground, however, and made a point to suppress his anxiety.

"Well then," Hartmann said as the slight commotion faded. "If you're all done with the introductions, we can get down to business." On top of a crate was a map of the entire area. Since we were first squad in the platoon, we were responsible for organizing ahead of time.

"Okay," Hartmann said, putting his hands on the crate "Charlie has this entire area fortified, and I mean everything, from here," he said pointing to an area that was only a few miles from our base. "To here," he finished pointing to a canyon on the other side of the map. "Our mission is to go behind their lines and wreak havoc. Izotov, I want you covering my six."

I stopped to quickly absorb what he had just said. "You want me to, sir?" I asked him.

"You heard me, Corporal," he replied, in confidence. "I've heard stories about you, Izotov; you're exactly the kind of guy I want covering my ass out there." I smiled and nodded.

"Thank you, sir," I told him, a sense of pride washing over me. "I won't let you down."

Five minutes later a D77 TC Pelican, used for massed troop deployment, set down on one of the launch pads. We piled on and got seated, me sitting on the back seat on the Dropship's right side, and Steven right next to me. The Pelican lifted off and began a course that took us over the mountains which concealed the base. Captain Hartmann was standing up, holding on to the rails on the Pelican ceiling.

"Okay men," he said over the radio. "Our mission today is critical. Areal recon spotted three enemy outposts due north of the base. Those outposts act as the Covenant's air pads in this sector; taking them out will give our main force an easier time in the assault on the Covenant Fortress stationed nearby."

One Marine raised his hand. "Yes, privet? What is your question?" Hartmann asked.

"Sir a single platoon seems inefficient to destroy three enemy outposts. These are the Covenant, sir, not the rebels."

"Not to worry, Privet," Hartmann replied. "As soon as we hit the ground, Colonel Lawrence is gonna send us vehicle support." The Privet turned back to face his rifle, which was an MA5B. "Now if there aren't any more questions, we'll be setting down in five minutes. Lock and load." All around the cabin of the Drop ship Marines loaded and cocked their weaponry. Steven cocked his MA5K and looked to me.

"How do I look?" he asked me, looking scared. Sweat was building up on his face, and beginning to seep. My best guess was that he didn't want to look like "the rookie" in front of the others.

"You look nervous," I told him the truth, not wanting to give him a false impression. "Just relax; take a deep breath; don't complacent, and _don't_ get arrogant; we'll get through this as long as you're with me."

He nodded, holding his rifle close. He exhaled. "Okay," he replied, breathing deep. "I'm with you then." I smiled and looked out the bay door of the ship. I prayed to God that I was right; I really did.


End file.
